Benighted
by 0utfoxed
Summary: Vincent reflects upon his life and its meaning, two months after the Meteor Crisis has passed. [Vincent x Tifa, oneshot, introspective]


**Benighted  
By Outfoxed**

* * *

The rain beats hard against the simple casement window. A few candles cast a soft glow in the otherwise blackened room. I sit, and watch an angel stir ever so gently in her sleep.

But I am getting ahead of myself..

Closing my eyes, I think back to the events that brought me... _us_ here.

* * *

I suppose I have never really talked about myself much before. I always figured that there wasn't much to tell. But I suppose that now, having had time to reflect upon the past, I see how I have perhaps concealed a little too much.

I only vaguely recall my past, my childhood and parents. My father was a stern man. That much I do remember. Though our family was well-to-do, we lived in spartan modesty, aside from our house, which had always seemed too large for the three of us, filled with cloth-draped furniture and shadowed corners, as if it still hadn't been moved into.

My mother... she was a quiescent woman. I remember she would often spend the days gazing out into nothingness. Sometimes she would be painting still life, or reading books. I don't remember growing up around any other children at all.

The war between Shinra and Wutai had begun shortly after I reached my twenties. When the draft came in my town, I was one of the first to leave for the nearest recruiting office. At the end of my rather long trip to Junon, I received word that my parents had been killed in a fire. No-one knew how it had started, or any other details. I felt more numbed than saddened by the news.

It had rained hard that whole day, and when I finally reached my destination, the recruitment office was already cramped with eager would-be soldiers, the floor wet and the air damp and rank from the congestion. It was when I was handed my registration form that, in an uncharacteristic moment of impulsiveness, I found myself signing up for a lifetime service, instead of the intended two-year minimum.

However, I was not inclined to fight the war; at least not on the front lines. Unlike some of those beside me, I had no quarrel with the Wutai Empire. As such, I decided to sign up for the navy, with hopes of being relegated to Shinra's naval signal intelligence unit.

I rose the ranks through a kind of detached, mechanical efficiency. The military service had become my life, and the demands and responsibilites that it afforded gave me a certain purpose, a meaning that I had always felt was missing. In a way, I was content, even though I did not believe as strongly in the cause as did my peers.

By my second year of service, I had reached the rank of Corporal, and might have found myself a commissioned officer, had it not been for one fateful event..

One day, while overseeing my duties, a nondescript man in a finely pressed, black suit approached me, asking me if I had an interest in joining a special organization within Shinra. 'A kind of wet-works force', he told me.

And the rest is, mostly, history.

* * *

Wisdom comes easily with hindsight, does it not? It is all too easy to think and speak lamentations after the fact, which we cannot alter.

I believe you know as well as I do what it is like, to lust after revenge, to crave vengeance and to seek it no matter what the cost. We want those who have laid our lives to waste to suffer as we suffered, and to die, so that they will not be able to inflict their curse upon another.

It is most ironic. When they are gone, the ones whose downfall we so desire, we find ourselves with nothing left to live for. The ultimate, hollow purpose of our lives achieved.

And yet we struggle on..

Certainly, some of us had plans, intentions of returning to our interrupted lives after our struggle had ended. But many of us did not. I believe we were both among that latter part of the group, still wandering aimlessly..

* * *

...Lucrecia? I cannot tell you of her fate, for it is unknown to me as well. When I returned to the hidden sanctuary where we had found her, she was gone. Gone from this world, I expect. May her soul rest in peace.

When we first met, I was one of the Turks assigned to guard and oversee the research facility in the Shinra Mansion here in Nibelheim, where she and Hojo worked along with many other scientists from the Shinra. The projects they were working on there entailed some of the greatest minds the corporation had under its wing, including the brilliant Professor Gast.

We first met in a small tavern, where the Shinra staff members would gather on their off-duty hours for a drink. I remember that she used to be quite timid around others, being new to the science team there. She would always address me as "Mr. Valentine", even after I had assured her that my given name would be fine. As time went by, we got to know each other very well, and would spend hours there talking about everything and nothing. Aside from her husband, I was the closest friend she had. Closer than him, even.

A year or so passed. By that time, I had grown a distaste for the corporation and its "ethics", no doubt largely due to observing the goings-on in the laboratory underneath the mansion. Poor Lucrecia didn't seem so fond of her work anymore, either. As you know, we had a brief affair, at the end of which I pleaded with her to leave with me. Leave everything behind, her husband and her career.

She told me that even though she sometimes feared him, in a way she also pitied him, and that she didn't want to leave.

I couldn't understand it back then, and I'm not sure I ever will..

Was my love for her unrequited? I will never know if it was requited in part, or if in any way at all. Our mutual curse, I expect.

I speak, of course, of your childhood friend, which brings me to the last part of our story..

* * *

After our ordeal, I returned to the Shinra Mansion, and I have made it my home. A proper one, this time. One of the first things that I did was to rid myself of that damned coffin, in which I had been a prisoner of sleep for far too long.

In the two months that have passed, I have made it an almost comfortable place to live, mostly spending the days caretaking, restoring the mansion and the garden, perusing the library in the basement at night, unearthing valuable knowledge amidst worthless documents.

But there is still something missing..

* * *

And so it was that this night, there is a faint knocking at my door. I open it to see you standing there, rainsoaked and desolate, hesitantly asking to come in, explaining that you don't wish to be alone tonight.

I invite you in..

All the lights are out. There is no power, and there hasn't been for days, but we make do with a few candles, strategically placed to make the most of their reflection of light on the walls.

Together, we try our best to make a simple meal for ourselves, with moderate success. We eat together quietly, though I can tell by the look in your eyes that you have much to say. After a small amount of persuasion on my part, you reluctantly begin. I listen intently, grateful for and contented simply by the company of another..

By the end, you have told me everything. Your hopes and fears, dreams and desires. And now I know what I have suspected for some time. You, too, are alone. It has not been long ago that your childhood friend left. I did not know the exact reasons why. I am not certain anyone does, not even him. You tell me that when he last spoke to you, to bid you farewell, that there was something about the look in his eyes that told you it might perhaps be the last time you would ever see him.

You are alone.

* * *

Surrounded by night, encased in blackness, the sound of rain falling... It is as if we are alone in the world, the only two beings left alive.

Perhaps we are..

You are tired, and ask to retire for the night. I lead you to the guest bedrooms, the candle's flames flickering ever so slightly as we walk past. As I walk beside you, I find myself unable to tear my gaze from your seraphic visage. Your ebony locks, your auburn eyes, like fire, burning with the incandescent radiance of fading memories.

I envy you.

I cannot remember ever having pleasant dreams, but ever since I... changed, the have gone far beyond what people call 'nightmares'. There are voices that speak to me, whispering unhallowed thoughts, asking me to do terrible things, and I am afraid that if I let up my guard, they will triumph over my will. And that, as you are aware, is the reason why I sleep as little as possible.

As you no doubt remember, I had once woken so long that the hallucinations from my depravation of sleep had grown to the point where I could no longer separate friend from foe, and as a result almost targeted a member of our own group by accident. Your childhood friend, taking the role of a responsible leader, scolded me and ordered me to get some rest, which I reluctantly did. It was not a pleasant experience, but I cannot say that I blame him.

I do not know how old I am, or whether I still age. For all I know, I may live on for ever, or I may die tomorrow. I have no way of knowing, and so all I can do is live one day at a time.

Sweet dreams, fair Lockheart. I cannot join you, but I will watch over you, for as long as you shall need me.

Perhaps, in doing so, I may have found something worth living for, after all..


End file.
